


and I grow wings (and fly)

by Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Biting, Blood and Injury, Harpy Mammon, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, Mating Rituals, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24447361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams/pseuds/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams
Summary: Harpies have two hearts; Satan had written in his instructions. When they mate they give one away.Briar knows for certain now that that’s not metaphorical.
Relationships: Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	and I grow wings (and fly)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rebsrebsrebsrebs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebsrebsrebsrebs/gifts).



> this was a request for harpy!mammon and "No more words unless you’re screaming my name." I finally got my ass into gear and finished it just in time.
> 
> With that said: happy birthday rebs!!! I hope you like it <3

The day is long and stifling; full of lessons and etiquette and pretending to be everything they are not. Briar walks the hallways to court with none but their guard at their side—as is proper, their mother would say.

They sigh.

“Is something wrong?”

Briar flashes Simeon a small smile.

“Just the heat messing with my delicate sensibilities,” they say lightly. “nothing to worry about.”

“Shall I tell the queen you’re feeling ill? I’m sure she won’t mind sending you to an early rest.” His smile is barely there but they see it all the same. “After all, she knows how the heat bothers you.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Briar gives a small nod and veers off into the hallway heading away from court. They’ll take any chance at escaping from the weight of their responsibilities. “You’re the best as always, Simeon.”

“You flatter me so, my liege.”

Hurried footsteps sound from behind them as they turn the corner. “Your highness!” Someone shouts. “Your highness, wait!”

Briar pauses. They recognize that voice. When they turn it’s to see a flurry of heavily stacked papers and billowing skirts. The owner of them both manages to skid to a stop before they barrel forward into Briar.

Briar catches a stray roll of paper before it can hit the ground and smiles. “Thatcher, it’s rare to see you out of the library. I thought we were supposed to meet tomorrow?”

“We are, I just—” they look around quickly before stepping closer than is necessarily appropriate; Briar’s mother would argue—Briar would say that they’ve been friends since they were children and propriety could shove it.

Simeon keeps a look out for any possible eavesdroppers and leans back against the stone wall.

“We found the information you wanted. About you-know-what.”

It’s impossible for Briar to slouch in the tightly fitted corset that sits beneath their breasts, but they feel themselves straighten all the same. “You did?” They grin as excitement bubbles up from their chest.

Thatcher’s lips curl into an answering smile. They shuffle the papers in their arms and thrust out two rolls of parchment. “That should be everything. Just be careful. The information may be outdated. It’s not as if many people have been around—”

They fall silent when Simeon straightens. A hand maiden rounds the corner and scurries away with wide eyes when she sees just who she’s come across.

Briar reaches out to squeeze their arm. “Thank you,” they say sincerely. “and give Satan my thanks as well.”

“It was nothing, your highness. It’s my job after all.” They duck their head, both in respect and in embarrassment before turning back around to head towards the library.

Briar can’t help the lonely feeling in their chest as they watch them go. Would they always be cursed to have titles forced between those that they loved?

“To your room?”

“Yes,” they say absently. “that’s a good idea.”

* * *

Come night fall the scrolls are tucked into their pack alongside all the other previsions they have been advised to bring. Simeon waits patiently as they paint the last touches of gold onto their face before wrapping a heavy black cloak around their body.

“Ready?”

Briar pulls the hood up and nods. “Ready.”

He climbs down from the wall of their balcony first and ensures that they don’t slip up when they follow. Their feet land quietly on the grass below before they both crouch in the bushes. Simeon counts down silently as a guard moves past before he’s up and moving through the gardens.

Briar spares a brief thought to compliment Evie on her arrangements the next time they meet before they’re ducking down into the underground tunnels that run through the castle.

An escape route; one Briar is glad to take advantage of.

They move in darkness; both have the tunnels memorized. The tunnels start to dip into a steady incline as they leave behind the castle and the mountain it resides upon. Twists and turns take them past dead ends and traps that lay in wait for would-be intruders.

Eventually a breeze hits Briar’s sweaty skin. They let out a sigh of relief when a sliver of light shines through the darkness and hold back reluctantly when Simeon investigates the area first.

“Safe,” he confirms, before helping them down from the lip of the tunnel. He scans the darkness of their surroundings and turns to them with a worried frown. “You’re sure about this? You may not come back this time.”

Briar sighs. “I’m sure, Simeon. For once I want to do something for myself.”

He draws them into an embrace they wouldn’t dare try at the castle. There were far too many prying eyes.

“Go safely. I’ll be waiting for your return.”

“When the sun rises.”

Simeon nods and climbs back up into the tunnel. He disappears into the darkness in moments and leaves Briar alone on the side of a cliff face.

They sigh and tip their head up to try and catch sight of the moon. It’s blocked by clouds, pale face nowhere to be seen. It seems they’ll have to rely on Mammon’s eyesight.

Briar lifts their fingers to their mouth and lets out a long piercing whistle. It echoes back at them almost mockingly before they do it a second and third time. When the last of their voice silences a piercing shriek calls in answer.

Their stomach tightens in excitement as they scan the shadows. Another screech comes closer this time, until they can hear the flap of wings. Briar backs up and takes a deep breath. No matter how many times they do this it will never stop being both terrifying and thrilling all at once.

There’s a shriek and a cut off whistle. The signal.

Briar darts forward and launches themselves away from the edge of the cliff. Gravity catches hold of them immediately and pulls them into a drop. Their cloak billows wildly around them but they don’t squirm.

In moments sharp talons wrap around their shoulders and pull them out of their free all. Their insides get left behind as they rise back up into the air with a breathless laugh.

Mammon’s head bends to meet their eyes. Briar grins back.

He lets out a trill that’s swallowed by the wind and lifts higher into the air.

* * *

Briar hits the floor in a roll when he drops them, used enough to landing to know how to make it as comfortable as possible. They push their hood back and bat their hair out of their face as he lands behind them.

They turn in time to see Mammon’s wings fold back against his arms. He preens the crown of feathers on his head back into place before turning his golden gaze onto them. His eyes widen when they find the sparkle of paint on their face.

He’s in front of them before they can stand, head leaning in close to examine their new markings. He flicks his tongue out against one of them and makes a face. “What is that?”

“Paint,” Briar says with badly hidden amusement. “you’re not supposed to eat it. It’s for decoration.”

“Like diamonds?” He sniffs at their cloak and hooks a claw in the front impatiently. They scramble to unbutton the throat before he can rip it.

“No, it’s just pigments from a flower.” They hold still to allow him to explore the rest of the markings on their bare arms, the skin of their upper chest and their belly. Their bag rattles when they shift in place which has his feathered ears perking up immediately.

“You brought gifts?”

“I did.” They pull the strap to their bag off of their shoulder and untie the string holding it closed.

He chirps when he sees the jewelry inside. A claw hooks underneath a ruby necklace and lifts it up carefully to be examined. “They’re real again!”

“Of course they are, how many times do I have to tell you that I’m royalty?”

He scampers away with their bag in tow to arrange his new trinkets with all the others. He’s already busy finding the right spot for the light to shine on when Briar reaches the entrance to his treasury.

The fact that he doesn’t look up is a stark contrast to the first time they’d come close to the room. He’d nearly killed them then.

“We’re going to run out of rubies eventually, are you sure there isn’t any other color you’d like?”

“I like the reds,” he says distractedly. “they’re like your hair.”

Briar’s hand lifts to touch a hand to their messy braid; their cheeks flush. “Would you rather have it instead?”

Mammon looks up as if considering it. “I like it when it’s attached to you,” he finally grunts. “I want ya here instead.”

They’re reminded then of just how empty his cave system seems. They know harpies are solitary creatures and extremely territorial, but it doesn’t ease the ache in their chest any.

“I’m sorry I can’t come more often.” Briar frowns down at their boots. “My mother would notice.”

“The queen,” he says distastefully. His tail feathers flick open. “I don’t like her.”

“I know.” They smile faintly and lean back against the wall. “She’s—difficult. But I won’t let her hurt you.”

“She’s the one who should be worried.”

He sets the last piece of jewelry in its place before he pokes at one of the scrolls. “These aren’t gems.”

Briar hurries closer before he can accidentally rip the pages with his claws. “No, they’re manuscripts Thatcher copied over for me.”

“Thatcher,” he echoes. “the tale keeper.”

Close enough, really. “Yes.” They spread open one of the sheets to reveal Satan’s elegant script and Thatcher’s intricate drawings. “Do you understand it?”

He peers over their shoulder and lets out a hoarse croak. They’re on their back before they can blink, scroll rolling away out of reach. Their arm is trapped beneath the talons of his right hand. They stare up at him with wide eyes only to get a narrow blink in return.

“Why do ya have instructions on how ta hunt a harpy?”

Briar’s tongue darts out to wet their lips. “It—that’s not what the intended purpose is.” They hiss when his claws dig in to their skin. “I know it’s from a hunting guide, but I wanted it for the instructions on how harpies mate!”

He stills. His head cocks to the side. “Mate?”

“The books said that your kind likes gifts, which I already kind of knew.” They glance over at the trinkets lining the walls meaningfully. “And that sometimes you enhance your mating colors to attract your suitors. I don’t have feathers, but,” they gesture to the paint on their face with their free hand. “I figured this was as good as I could get. I didn’t want to wear anyone else’s feathers, even to pretend.”

His grip loosens as he rocks back on his heels. He crouches over them unblinkingly, the tips of his ears twitching. His feathers puff up in pride even as a hoarse rumble leaves his chest.

“Are ya mockin’ me?”

“What? No!” Briar sits up to put their face closer to his own. “I asked them to give me the information so I could—court you. Officially. I want to be your mate, if you’ll let me.”

He’s silent for a few long moments as a flush travels down over their chest. They yelp when he hooks a talon into the front of their shirt and uses it to tug them along into the cave system. They stumble in an attempt to keep up with his hurried pace; the tearing of fabric lets them know that they’re failing.

He whirls them around and pushes them. Their back hits something soft as the breath leaves their lungs. Something rises in the air around them before floating back down. When they hold their hand out a soft brown feather sits in their palm.

They’re in his nest, they realize. A place they’re familiar with though they’ve never been able to appreciate it properly. Normally Mammon carries them over after they’ve been spent to sleep. They’ve always had to leave in a rush in the morning.

“Mammon—”

His feathers flare as he settles between their legs. It’s an incredible display of brown and white that they ache to bury their hands in. “No more talkin’.” He leans down to nip at their mouth as his claws rip at their clothes.

“Wait—!”

They gasp when the tearing of fabric fills the air. Cold air brushes up against their chest and teases their nipples into peaks. He takes advantage of their surprise to lick into their mouth.

“No more words,” he breathes as their skirt and pants follow. “unless you’re screaming my name.”

Briar practically whimpers at the promise in his voice. Their hands lift to bury themselves into his hair. Feathers mix with the strands as they kick the last shreds of their clothes off of their legs.

The plumage around his hips part and tuck down against his thighs to make way for his arousal. The tip presses into Briar’s own thigh in search of where they want him most.

Briar curses as they wrap their legs around his hips. He lets out a chirping sort of laugh and drags his claws down their back. The pain has them arching at just the right angle. His hips snap forward before they can even gasp, cock leaving its sheath in a rush that has him buried in their heat in seconds.

Tears prick their eyes as their hands drop to clutch at his shoulders. “Mammon,” they moan, already so deliciously full. “please—”

He bites down on their shoulder and hunches over them as his hips begin to rock. They clench down around him which in turn has him fucking into their cunt with even more force.

Loose feathers fly when his wings send a gust of wind out around them. His mouth leaves a trail of bloody kisses down over their heaving chest to nip at the peaks of their nipples.

Already their thighs are trembling faintly, though they know that the night is far from over.

“Mammon,” they call again. “I need—to tell you s-something—”

He rumbles in their ear and bites down on their neck. “I thought I said no talkin’?”

They tug at his hair. “It’s important! I— _ah!_ —you have a choice—”

“What?” His head tilts to the side as his hips slow some. He bends his ear obediently to listen to their strained whispers.

Briar tells him of what they’ve done. Of the preparations, the potions, the information on the other scroll he hasn’t seen. Of Thatcher and Satan risking their lives just to give them a chance at another of their own; one where they’re free of the weight of their mother’s expectations.

He rears back in shock when they’re done, eyes wide and searching. “Ya really want that?”

They smile through the pleasure coursing through their veins and tighten their thighs around his hips. “I do. If you’ll have me.”

He shudders above them. A lost keen escapes his lips as he nuzzles back into their neck and resumes the harsh pace of his hips. They let themselves disappear into his kisses and touch, oh so eager to soak up everything he’ll give him.

They’re touch starved from propriety and keeping up appearances. No one has touched them as freely as Mammon has; not even their mother. He holds no reservations with pushing them around and invading their space.

“I love you,” Briar gasps as their pleasure swells.

“I love you too,” he says into their ear. His hand guides their head to his shoulder. “Bite down.”

They do so without hesitation. His blood floods their mouth and lines the walls of their throat. It’s not the same rustic taste of their own that they had been expecting. It tingles against their tongue and paints flames behind their teeth.

His cock twitches within them in warning when they swallow. They cant their hips up with a muffled moan.

They’re barely aware of his hand moving down their front until a pain unlike anything they’ve experienced before pierces through their chest. His free hand has their throat in its grasp before they can try to get away and keeps them pressed to his shoulder where they can’t see what he’s doing.

They choke on his blood when the pain increases, and they realize with a distant sort of fascination that what they’re feeling is his hand digging its way into their chest.

_Harpies have two hearts;_ Satan had written in his instructions. _When they mate they give one away._

Briar knows for certain now that that’s not metaphorical.

Tears stream down their cheeks as black edges in around their vision. Mammon pulls back as their ribs give way and holds their gaze as he plunges his hand into his side.

Something emerges; black and dripping.

_His heart,_ Briar realizes distantly.

His hand guides it into the open cavern of their chest. Lights blooms out from the wound as he mutters something they can’t understand. There’s pain again, hot and overwhelming.

When they open their eyes, they’re in his lap, surrounded by wings and held close. He lets out a relieved chirp when they stir, tongue easing from the frantic grooming he’d been performing on their neck and shoulders.

“Mammon,” they say hoarsely. “did it work?”

“You’re alive, ain’t ya?” He huffs and nuzzles into their cheek. “We’re never doing that again, you almost died.”

“We won’t have to.” Briar lifts a hand only to stare down at their arm in wonder. There are black feathers where there had been skin; dipped in red and gleaming in the low light. “I can fly?”

“You should be able to once your body recovers.” He catches their hand in his own and squeezes gently. “You won’t need me to carry you anymore.”

There’s sadness in his voice. Briar clutches him closer and lets out a comforting croon. “I like it when you carry me. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

His smile is hidden in their hair, but they feel it all the same. “I guess you _will_ need a ride back to the castle.”

“Simeon is waiting for me,” they confirm. “he’ll get Thatcher and Satan out once I give the word.”

“And your mother?”

“Ruling a kingdom was never the life I wanted. She’ll find someone else. Someone better.”

Mammon scoffs. “As if.”

“Someone who will enjoy it,” Briar amends with a smile. “I’m not going back. Everything I want will be with me soon enough.”

Mammon, their friends, a new life…

“You’re stuck with me.”

“Yeah, well, good.” He holds them close and lets out a soft huff. “I’d be pissed if ya just up and left after all this.”

Briar lifts their head to steal a kiss. “Never,” they promise. “I’m with you. Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ apassintohell


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